


most of us sleep outside anyway

by violia



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:46:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8866408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violia/pseuds/violia
Summary: It's unrealistic to expect fifty teenage boys to live on top of each other without, y'know, being on top of each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This WIP came about because although Maze Runner is a wonderful series for younger readers, I couldn't help thinking that in real life, there would be so much more sex happening between those hormonal, growing teenagers. I'd really like to finish this one day, but don't hold your breath, because I have heaps of other WIPs and ideas and also I procrastinate a lot. But I do hope you enjoy! 
> 
> This is in desperate need of an edit - apologies. Title is from the first Maze Runner book.

When he’d told Chuck, on the first night, that sleep would come easily to him – he’d lied.

Life was a whirlwind. Thomas hadn’t been in the Glade twelve hours but there was a part of him which felt completely comfortable in his situation. He wanted to be a Runner. The reaching walls of the Glade seemed like a familiar prison – and somehow he just knew he could help this group of people. But this confidence, veracious as it was, did not extend to the rest of his thoughts.

He had spent his whole day being surrounded by more than fifty teenaged boys. Relaxed in their lives and sharing a deep-seated friendship, they joked together with curse words Thomas had never heard of, which made them seem even more exclusive. The Gladers worked seamlessly as a team, and all day Thomas felt like he was floundering amidst it all, never sure of what to say or where to go because everything he did accidentally inconvenienced someone or interrupted the dynamic of the group.

Thomas had so many questions with no one to answer them and as much as his curiosity was piqued by every tidbit of information he could find, he very much wanted to simply lie down for a while and pretend that he didn’t feel like he’d been dropped into a maze and had to find his way out. Literally. 

But he could not, for the life of him, fall asleep.

Tossing and turning, on his stomach then on his back, no position brought Thomas any peace. He was left with his own mind, running wild with confusion about this new place and helpfully replaying every embarrassing situation Thomas had fell into throughout the entire day; including when he _actually_ fell onto the ground in front of everyone after he had ran away from the Box. He’d been frightened, more than anything, his body shaking like a leaf ripped off a tree during a violent storm. No memories and no courage, just endless, all-consuming fear; and then there had been a hand reaching down, pulling him up, a flash of golden hair and a smile so kind that Thomas wanted to sink down again because the relief that filled him was too much to bear.

Thomas was not necessarily concerned with trying to fit in, but he did worry about making a fool of himself in front of a bunch of people who, despite their strange vernacular and confidently nonchalant attitude toward their entire living situation, seemed like pretty good guys.

Pretty good _and_ pretty guys, a voice murmured in the back of Thomas’ mind, and he froze as he heard a rustle behind him.

“Jeff?” a voice whispered, so softly that Thomas could barely hear it. Footsteps weaved their way through the conglomeration of boys who had made their beds on a lush patch of grass near the gardens. Thomas thought back to the beginning of his day – what seemed like the beginning of his whole life, due to the memory loss, wasn’t that a weird feeling – and remembered being shunted off to the Homestead after he was pulled out of the Box, Jeff haphazardly checking his body for cuts and bruises in the makeshift infirmary the med-jacks had created. Thomas hadn’t said anything – too busy trying to make sense of what was going on – and Jeff wasn’t the one for small talk, not when there were three other Builders with massive splinters in their hands and a glum Slopper who had a bad case of diarrhoea. Thomas didn’t even know what a Slopper _was_ yet, had only found out when the boy used the title to introduce himself and gave a half-hearted wave. Jeff, on the other hand, had offered Thomas a quick grin and a bad pun, the artificial light shining on his dark skin and slim yet deceptively muscled frame, and Thomas liked him well enough.

Thomas’ eyes shut and he steadied his breathing as the boy tiptoed past his sleeping bag, surprisingly avoiding tripping over any feet despite the darkness. Their sleeping area was only slightly illuminated by the last embers of the fire which some of the boys had built for everyone to sleep around. It was cosy, Thomas had to admit, and he felt a sense of camaraderie in being a part of this circle of people who held so much trust in each other that they could sleep unguarded.

“Jeff!” the boy hissed again, a little louder. Thomas peeked an eye open to get a better look at him as he wandered away: he was tall, broad-shouldered and blonde.

“Adam?” Jeff’s voice filtered sleepily through the air. “What are you doing here?”

Thomas had never met Adam before, but he watched as he hushed Jeff and manoeuvred his way through the bodies. Jeff was sleeping around the outer edge of the circle like Thomas, but a little further away, positioned sideways so that Thomas could just make out his face but doubted whether Jeff would be able to see him.

“Can’t sleep.” Adam sat down next to Jeff, crossing his legs and placing one hand on his side.

“Bad dreams again?” Jeff yawned, covering his mouth with one arm and lazily stretching out the other. Adam ducked his head.

“Something like that,” he replied. He started moving his hand up and down Jeff’s back comfortingly. Thomas was facing Adam’s back but he saw Jeff’s eyes flick open, a small smile lifting his lips as he gestured to Adam.

“Come here.”

Adam leant down slowly, and Jeff’s hand came to rest on the back of his head to pull him into a kiss. 

Thomas blinked.

It looked familiar, as though it was a daily occurrence for the two boys. They seemed to know exactly where to put their hands and when to move their heads and a part of Thomas knew this was a private affair but a bigger, more dominant part of him was genuinely interested in how this worked because seriously, when were they going to breathe?

Eventually they broke apart, slightly out of breath, and Thomas felt relieved as he watched Adam move away, believing that he was going to stand up. Instead Adam’s hands drifted down to the opening of Jeff’s cargo pants. He undid the button, then the zipper, and pulled out Jeff’s cock.

Thomas’ eyes widened as Adam’s arm started to pump up and down, and his mouth fell open when Jeff’s lips parted to let out a soft groan. Jeff tilted his head forward as he fumbled with Adam’s zipper, getting a grip on Adam’s dick and mimicking his actions with a slow pull of his hand. Adam’s breathy “ _oh_ ” seemed to be punched out of him, and he surged down to capture Jeff’s lips in a brutal kiss.

Objectively, Thomas understood what was happening. Whoever had put him here and wiped his memory had left factual information in his mind, just without any points of reference. Thomas could name every animal in the Blood House and recite the life cycle of a butterfly, but could not remember when or where he had learnt this knowledge. So he understood the theory of sex, knew how it worked and that it was not restricted to the opposite gender but rather could come in all shapes and sizes, but he could not recall ever learning it, seeing it, or practicing it. 

Thomas leant forward without meaning too, caught a glimpse of tongues tangling around each other, and he ran his own over his lips and the back of his teeth. He should really be looking away, rolling over and blocking his ears and squeezing his eyes shut.

He didn’t.

Both boys’ arms sped up their pace, kisses becoming sloppier as their motions grew more frantic, Jeff’s remaining arm running underneath Adam’s shirt as Adam held himself over Jeff’s body. Thomas could not tear his eyes away. He was mesmerised by these two boys, furtively giving each other pleasure in the middle of the night.

Adam came first, hunching over into Jeff’s chest, biting his shoulder to muffle his moan. Jeff’s arm stroked Adam’s back while he waited for him to come down from the high, and then it was a quick race to the finish, Adam breathing hotly across Jeff’s cheek as he pumped his cock.

“Oh, shuck, Adam,” Jeff groaned. Adam pressed a hand over Jeff’s mouth, licked a long stripe up his neck and Jeff was sent over the edge, chest arching up into Adam’s grasp.

Adam’s arm seemed to give out at that point, and he collapsed on top of Jeff with a loud _oof_.

“Get off, ya fatty,” Jeff complained, but his arm didn’t move from Adam’s back. “You gotta get back to your bed, some shanks’ll wonder where ya got to.”

“Five minutes,” Adam murmured sleepily.

“Whatever, shank,” Jeff rolled his eyes and wriggled around on his back as he tried to get more comfortable. The two shot a few more remarks back and forth but Thomas rolled over onto his other side, eyes wide and one hand covering his gaping mouth. He hadn’t thought this day could contain any more surprises, but he should not have underestimated it.

 

Thomas tossed and turned for another half an hour, before eventually dropping into a restless sleep.

* * *

 

 

 _Thomas_ , a foreign voice whispered in his dreams.  _Everything is going to change._

Taking inventory of his ripped t-shirt and loose waist of his pants, Thomas thought, _I really hope you’re talking about my clothes._

Someone shook Thomas awake. His eyes snapped open to see a too-close face staring down at him, everything around them still shadowed by the darkness of early morning. He opened his mouth to speak but a cold hand clamped down on it, gripping it shut. Panic flared until he saw who it was.

“Shh, Greenie. Don’t wanna be wakin’ anyone, now, do we?”

It was early morning, and the awkward night time incident had been firmly shoved out of Thomas’ mind. He grabbed the hand offered to him and let Newt pull him onto his feet, surprised at how easily he lifted Thomas’ body weight despite Newt’s slim build. Thomas took a step and stumbled, his mind blurred with dizziness as he stood up too quickly, and he reached out his other hand to steady himself against Newt’s shoulder.

“Careful there,” Newt warned, but he grabbed Thomas’ waist and waited until he could see clearly again. Eventually the dizzy spell disappeared and tiredness was the only thing clouding Thomas’ mind, so he nodded at Newt and stepped forward. Newt’s arm fell away but Thomas kept his grip on Newt’s hand for a few seconds longer than necessary.

Newt took him to the glass in the Wall, something Thomas hadn’t noticed when he’d first arrived and been too bewildered to comprehend anything. It was only a small box, barely big enough for both his eyes to see into, but through it he had a clear view of a corridor of the Maze. He could not see anything except some small red lights which flashed here and there along the wall’s face, moving about, stopping, turning off and on.

“What are those?” he whispered as loudly as he dared, wondering if his voice sounded as shaky as he felt. The twinkling red glow of the lights held an undercurrent of warning.

Newt stood just a couple of feet in front of the thick curtain of ivy on the wall. “When you bloody need to know, you’ll know, Greenie.”

“Well, it’s kind of stupid to send me to a place where nothing makes sense and not answer my questions.” Thomas paused, surprised at himself. “Shank,” he added, throwing all the sarcasm he could into the syllable, taking advantage of the small moment of courage he found in the presence of Newt.

Newt broke out in a laugh. “I like you, Greenie. Now shut it and let me show ya somethin’.”

They both stared through the glass. Thomas watched as Newt talked about the Maze, eyes sparkling with awe and fear, as they waited for the monsters of the Maze to reveal themselves. The Grievers were disgustingly large and bulbous and Thomas was momentarily petrified when he first set eyes on them, but found that they were nowhere near as terrifying as the moment when the sun shone on Newt’s smile and Thomas felt his heart swivel in his chest.

* * *

  

The Glade is a big place, but if you think it’s big enough to hide you giving some shank a blowjob, you’re crazy.

Alby gave this same advice to every greenbean that arrived in the Box. The greenie would be scared and confused and slightly shaky but Alby would take him round on the Tour, introduce him to a couple of likeminded Gladers, and then pause briefly at the Deadheads for a quick lecture about the merits of keeping quiet whenever he felt the urge to jack off – solo or otherwise. It was ridiculous, Alby knew, to have dozens of hormonal teenaged boys locked up in a square of land and not expect them to have relations; but that didn’t mean they couldn’t at least try to be discreet about it.

Thomas, however, had arrived too late in the day for the Tour, so Alby went to find him at breakfast, searching through the hordes of starving people.

“Me and you, shank,” he’d commanded, “the Tour begins now,” and promptly marched an eager, question-filled Thomas away from his food and towards the Box.

He could see the Greenie itching to ask a question at every possible moment but Alby ignored him, continuing on with the Tour and feeling grateful that the Greenie had some semblance of self-control. He had bigger and better things to do than show a simpering greenbean around the Glade, and moved through the Tour with practiced speed, passing through the Blood House and onto the Deadheads.

“Two years I’ve been here,” Alby continued as they walked through the thickening forest. “Ain’t none been here longer. The few before me are already dead.” He didn’t let his voice waver despite never forgetting those first few months, just a few teens in a big Glade drowning in each other’s fright, finding solace with the tall blonde-haired one who called himself _George_. Somehow Alby remembered the saying _curiosity killed the cat_ and he wondered if the Creators kept that phrase in his brain on purpose, because George had tiptoed into the Maze one day and came out with a Griever sting in his stomach and it was up to Alby to chain his maniacal lover to a tree stump and grant him mercy with a spear.

Alby always felt slightly uncomfortable knowing that every day a couple of boys jacked each other off in the place where George was buried. When he thought back to those times, however – when George enticed Alby away from his planning with a salacious wink and surreptitious grab of his butt, or how he was openly encouraging of his friends to find comfort in each other when they couldn’t in themselves – Alby supposed it was rather fitting that the Gladers used the Deadheads for their own not-so-secret sexual escapades.  

But the Greenie’s eyes had widened at the mention of death, and Alby had spent too long reminiscing his lost love, so he decided it was time to move on to the next topic and get it over with.

“Right, listen up,” Alby stopped walking and turned to face Thomas, whose eyes were constantly darting all over the place. “We’re all tryin’ to find our way outta here, but there’s no guarantee that’s gonna happen anytime soon, and some of those shanks’ve been here a while. As a result some of ‘em have found themselves a partner to turn to when they’re not feeling a hundred per cent.” Alby paused, considering. “Sometimes several partners. Point is, there’s no one here who hasn’t come into the Deadheads at least once to, well, come.”

Throughout Alby’s spiel Thomas’ face had slowly blossomed into a beet red, and Alby sighed internally, thought _great, he’s a blusher, Minho will be all over this one._ It took him a moment to realise that despite the Greenie’s embarrassment, Alby’s information hadn’t come as a surprise to him.

“…But you seem to already know that,” Alby said slowly. The Greenie bit his lip and nodded once, ducking his head, and for the first time since he’d arrived in the Glade, Thomas didn’t look like he was preparing to ask a single question.

Alby decided he couldn’t take any more of this. He began to launch into the next segment of the Tour when he suddenly heard a booming, ringing alarm which sounded from all directions.

That was another saying Alby remembered: _saved by the bell._

 

\--------

 

“It’s a girl,” Newt announced gravely, confusion laced through his voice. He stared up at the crowd from inside the Box where the girl lay motionless.

A makeshift pulley hoisted her lifeless body up into the open air and she was laid gently onto the group in the middle of the encircling crowd. No one said anything for a moment, but then everyone erupted into chatter, and the few sexual implications that were called out made Thomas want to grind his teeth and maybe punch something. He caught a glimpse of Newt’s tightened eyes and pursed lips and knew that he felt the same way.

Alby’s eyes narrowed; his mouth pulled into a tight grin that didn’t look like it had anything to do with humour. “If anybody touches this girl,” Alby said, “you’re gonna spend the night sleepin’ with the Grievers in the Maze. Banished, no questions.” He paused, turning in a slow circle as if he wanted every person to see his face. “Ain’t nobody better touch her! Nobody!”

The Gladers received his message loud and clear.

 

\--------

 

“You sure you don’t recognise her?” Newt asked again, after the crowd had dispersed and the girl carried into the Homestead with the med-jacks.

“Yes, Newt,” Thomas replied exasperatedly, having already been grilled by Alby. “You’ve asked me at least ten times now.”

“Only because I know there’s something you’re not tellin’ me,” Newt leant down to close the gates of the Box.

“What? No there’s not,” Thomas was a little too defensive.

“Ya heard me, Greenie. I can tell there’s something,” Newt stood up, wiped his hands on his pants and grinned cockily at him.  “Out with it. Do ya know her?”

“No! I’ve already told you that!” Thomas exclaimed. Newt raised his eyebrow and took a step closer, and Thomas sighed. “It’s nothing. I’m just not one hundred per cent sure, you know? I don’t remember ever seeing her, but everything about this Glade has felt familiar to me… and now so does she.”

“Familiar,” Newt mused, tapping his upper lip. “Familiar how?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas wished he had a tree or something to lean on because he felt his energy draining from his body, but the Box was in the open field in the middle of the Glade. “I can’t explain it. But nothing seems really _new_. Like yes, I was shocked when I got here, and shocked whenever I discover something new about this shuckin’ weird place, but nothing is ever a… surprise.”

Thomas felt Newt’s eyes rake over his body as he studied him.

 

\--------

 

**Author's Note:**

> (I also have a wicked Thomas/Newt kiss written out for this fic but it’s supposed to come later in the narrative so I didn’t want to post it.)
> 
> If you're confused about who George is and why Alby is heartbroken over him, go here: http://www.bleedingcool.com/2014/12/13/exclusive-sdcc-maze-runner-comic-included-blu-ray/ 
> 
> Thank you for reading. :)


End file.
